Convulsions
by Crispy For A Change
Summary: Cruelty was his right hand, and monstrosity was his left. ----- Denmark x Norway multi-chap rated M for sexual situations and physical and mental abuse; read with an open mind
1. I Hate You M'Dear

Ok, so I'm obviously not an amazing author(ess) but I enjoy what I do and so, ya.

I don't have many comments;

DeNor NEEDED a multi-chapter fic, and I've yet to see one so.. this /might/ be the first one. That's.. scary. Also, please be nice! I came from the AkuRoku fandom; a place where your fic gets buried easily..which is reassuring when you aren't confident. However, DeNor has barely a page of things on here and so.. all eyes watching me type thing.

Well, I've made Svein (Get used to that name because I've dubbed Norway that) not..emo..but he's had a hard life and struggled. So, this fic is basically Søren (Denmark) realizing his mistakes and trying to pick up the pieces; still very much in love with Norway.

So, I guess that's it. Please be nice 'cus I suck at writing and I know it OTL.. reviews are loved!

Oh and forgive the shortness...

*cowers in corner*

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The Dane was sitting in his office with his leg crossed over the knee of his other leg; he was lounging about in his office chair. He had previously been rolling about with the wheels on the furniture. His sighs were growing louder and longer by the minute. There was so much paperwork on his desk but he couldn't bring himself to concentrate on such trivial matters. His mind was stuck upon his ex lover; the most handsome boy he had ever laid eyes upon. His name was Svein Engebretsen and he was the man's childhood friend.

He had met the boy when he was 10. The boy was new to the school; he had moved to Denmark from Norway. At the time the Dane didn't know why but he eventually learned that it was because his mother needed treatment from a special doctor that resided in Denmark; Svein's mother was mentally ill. His mother thinks her son is a female for one; that didn't really help Svein when it came to getting bullied. His ex was so kind about it though; he let his mom treat him like a daughter, not wanting to see her beautiful smile fade. Even so, his mother loved him very much; he was her baby, her pride, and her joy and nobody could take that from her.

It was very much a storybook relationship.

Søren, the Dane, had been bully at the time he met the boy; particularly using his age and size to intimidate. He had poked fun at the boy's thick Norwegian accent when they met; yelling insults such as," You talk funny." One of the worst things he'd ever said to the Norwegian was that he told him to go back home; his dad had raised him on Danish superiority. Svein could barely understand Søren, as his Norwegian wasn't even perfect and he hadn't spoken an ounce of Danish in his life; something the Dane was grateful for years later.

The boy had no friends and the Dane was quick to pick up on that; half wanting to reach out to the boy and half wanting to laugh at him for being anti-social. So he would pull on the small boy's golden curl; enjoying the sharp gasp it brought him. He mentally hit himself, looking back on it he realized he really was the typical grade-schooler; picking on the person he liked.

He would even tug on the two pieces of material that hung from the boy's hat; this always caused the boy to turn around and glare. In fact, Søren knew he'd have a smaller list of what he /didn't/ do to the boy in their younger years versus what he did. He half wondered if the boy would've still given him attention had he not picked on him.

The boy held very strong and firm for a 7 year old. Though, everybody has their breaking points and Søren found Svein's final thread and ripped it.

The day was an ordinary day, a few months into school, and Søren was picking on his little friend as always. A lady had walked into the room, though he couldn't remember her clearly as he was much too young, and called our teacher's attention towards her. They chattered for a few minutes, his teacher's warm smile slowly creeping its way down.

He was, being so young and well, being who he was, curious and it ate at him as he watched the pair; delighted when they parted. It was then, to the joy of Søren, that the teacher began making her way towards Svein, who was sitting in front of him. She bent over; one of her slender and feminine hands resting upon her knee while the other reached out to rub circles on Svein's back.

She sighed heavily, looking into the little boy's eyes before speaking in the boy's native tongue," I'm afraid you're doing poorly in your classes due to your limited Danish," She smiled at him, but it was a sad smile, a smile a mother would give to her child as she watches him leave the house for college. "We have to move you to remedial classes. Now, people will tease you but don't you listen to them, ok? You're a very smart and charming young man." She patted his head gently and helped him gather his things into his bag.

The Dane wasn't sure if the Norwegian had really understood what was going on but, his movements were painfully slow. Looking back, the Dane would've done different had he known what he knows now.

Søren had caught wind of their conversation, picking up the general idea of it. He heard, "limited Danish…move to remedial classes.." though, he probably understood much more, he really only cared at those parts. A cruel and wicked smile spread across his face; he had another reason to pick on the boy.

It was at lunch where he broke the boy; he noticed Svein was sitting with, what'd he'd called them back then, the other retards and was smiling and giggling. In a mixture of rage and jealousy, kids don't know self-control as, they don't know how to handle such intense emotions, and he stormed over to the table.

Svein hadn't looked up from his tray, even as the Dane stood behind him taunting him,"Hey there buddy." The Dane kept up his verbal torture, only to get even more enraged when the boy wouldn't look at him. Flipping his lid, he ripped the carton of chocolate milk from Svein's hands and turned it upside down on his head. "Retard…retard! HA! Svein is a retard! Dumb! Dumb! Dumb-dumby-head! You have to be friends with them 'cos nobody likes you! Ha ha ha ha ha ha!"

The boy turned around, tears welling in his royal blue eyes, and he sobbed loudly. "Ha ha! You're a baby! A little crying baby!" the insults flew from Søren's mouth as quickly as you could blink an eye.

Svein, unable to take it anymore, pushed the Dane aside and ran from the cafeteria. He wandered blindly, his tears blocking his vision, and he searched for a good hiding spot. The best place was where the wall dipped in to hold the dumpster, but he didn't care; he shoved his petite body into the crack and held his arms over his face.

The Dane would never forget the way the boy looked when he'd finally found him; his hair standing up in the back from being pressed up against the wall, the whites of his eyes a light pink-ish-red, his cheeks still were stained with tears, and he reeked of garbage.

Though he'd never admit it, the Dane crawled in beside the boy, wrapped his arms around his trembling form, buried his face into the boy's hat, and wailed loudly along with him.

It was at that that Søren felt bad; he begun to cease teasing he boy, or at least in a mean way. Søren had even begun to develop a child's crush upon the boy; expressing his childish affection the only way he knew how. But he had a feeling that the other boy secretly knew the nature for which he teased the boy.

That was how he'd become close to the boy.

He took another deep breath and released it with a forced sigh. He realized only now how awful he had been to his beloved. The Dane had not treated the boy with care like he should have; he was ruthless during sex. He often ignored the boy other than to play dirty with him. He had not even told the boy he loved him. It was just a relationship built out of fear and duty.

Oh what he wouldn't give to have the boy back. He would give up all his happiness if he could just gaze upon that shiny blonde hair of his; that shimmered even more so when the sun's rays played upon it. He longed to breathe the boy's intoxicating scent and let it fill his entire being. He wanted to wrap that small, lithe body into his arms and cradle it tightly; run his fingers against that baby soft skin, and enjoy the shivers and quiet moans he obtained through it. He wished to look into those cold cobalt eyes and search for that warmth that he had buried deep inside himself.

A day had not gone by that Søren didn't think about him. The boy had once been the very air he breathed; though he felt himself too manly and prideful to show it. It was such a shame that he let the boy leave. But what was even worse was that Sweden had wrapped the boy in his clutches the second Svein left. He couldn't help the hatred that burned deep inside his heart.

It was then that the Dane could no longer contain his passionate hatred for the Swede; he begun to start things with him, challenge his manliness and pride. Whenever he was able, he would force the brute into submission; take him roughly, mercilessly like a beast that knew no such thing as emotion. Any way to tear the man down, he would look for it. He needed to feel that control, that power. He needed for the man to die of shame for taking his lover. It was a simple thing to do; the Dane placed a looming threat that he would harm his precious Finn, and that was all it took to make the man fall to his knees.

Berwald's love and dedication to his wife further pissed him off; the Swede didn't deserve love, at least not love that pure. And yet it was mostly just jealousy; the Dane hadn't done anything to care for his lover. Søren hadn't even bothered to satisfy his mate; there was no foreplay, and the second he came he would abandon Svein for the shower, leaving his lover with only his hand. Though the Dane had assumed that the boy would feel too pained to want to pleasure himself; laying on the bed rejected by, possibly, the person he loved the most. It sickened him to think of how he had treated the boy; cruelty was his right hand, and monstrosity was his left.

His eyes glanced down at his pen; he could see from the now clear barrel that it was out of ink. He bit his bottom lip with little strength as he attempted to gain relief from all the stress. He wanted to remain seated and thinking of his old flame but work had to be done and he would need to make a trip to the store. The man ran his fingers through his golden blonde hair; the spikes were limp as he had not showered in a few days. The man felt so dirty inside that there was no need to be physically washed. He didn't even have the strength to smell himself to see if he smelled as bad as he looked.

He lazily uncrossed his legs and stood up; wobbling around a little because his legs had fallen asleep due to inactivity. He searched for the keys once he had walked the sleep away from his aching legs and feet. The keys were on the kitchen counter; they hadn't been moved for a week or so; or was it longer?

The Dane decided on a convenience store; it was far away from his house, which was good, because though he felt shitty, he was a man that still stood tall with pride and he didn't want to ruin that image.

The car ride there was an uneventful blur for the Dane; he was a skilled enough driver that he just let his mind wander back to his most precious memories of his Norwegian as his hands robotically turned the wheel. He recalled a time that, it was most unusual because he was being loving that day, Søren had brought the boy to his favourite spot in the city.

It was a quiet and secluded hill; hidden by the surplus of trees that surrounded the area. The wind was blowing a chilly breath that day; tossing the boy's fine hair and playing with his sweater. Svein had huddled close to his lover when they both sat down upon the grass. The Dane could still feel the boy's trembling body as it leaned against him, begging for him to share his warmth.

Søren and Svein remained on that hill through the night; closing their eyes and falling asleep to the humming of the crickets as they made their calls for a mate. The Dane had remained awake; watching the boy sleep rest on his shoulder.

There came a point in the night where even the crickets hushed their song. The man listened to the quiet breathing of the other; feeling his chest fall and rise slowly against his own form. He quietly whispered to the night and any other creature still paying attention "you breathe so pretty baby."

It was so much so that he swore the whole entire night had silenced itself to listen to the Norwegian's breathing; it was so relaxing in its rhythm. The Dane couldn't bring himself to fall asleep; not wanting to miss a single breath the boy made. It was not until late in the night that the hushed noises, and the up and down motions against his side, lulled the man to sleep.

That was one of his favourite memories; it was the only time that both he and Svein had left themselves vulnerable and he liked that feeling. Had he been willing to date others he knew he would never treat them as he had Svein; he was so tormented and guilt ridden over it. He hated himself for pushing away the one good thing he had had. It made him want another chance.

He pulled into the parking lot, taking the spot furthest from the store; he needed to clear his head and walking usually always did the trick. The man loved exercise as it gave him room to think and breath; he hated to just sit still as he accomplished less that way usually. It was one of the things that he had shared with Svein; they both loved to get up and move. Though he would deny it, Svein was always so hyper. Søren knew that for him to stay still for long periods of time was painful.

They were both free souls, and in that freedom they found a nice stable solace; a cage, except warmer. More loving and it was a cage that they had, or so the older man thought, both enjoyed sharing with one another.

The walk from his car to the store went by much too fast; the man's legs strode long with power and pride as he let his thoughts flow out of him. He even had to remind himself what he was here for; some pens and perhaps something for a midnight snack. His stomach jumped happily at the thought of food; he couldn't remember the last time he had eaten. The days and nights drug on so long for him that he felt like each new dawn marked the turn of the seasons.

The store was a somewhat humble building; settled near a few other stores with some housing to the north of the street. It was small compared to the big city buildings that the Dane was used to. There were only few cars parked outside; he assumed that most of them belonged to the employees. Søren wasn't sure, as he didn't come here often.

He had taken over a friend's business for him when his dad died, so he rarely had to leave his home on anything but leisure. He could have called up one of his many errand boys but the Dane wanted to taste some fresh air. He was a slave to his house now, which he wouldn't have minded if he had somebody to share his gigantic home with.

He walked through the automatic door at the entrance; realizing with little worry that he was dressed in a suit. It was made of some of the finest silks in the country; possibly all of Europe. On a normal day he would have boasted his outfit, but he didn't feel any sense of pride for himself. Sure, Denmark was the happiest place on earth but they meant that in terms of materials; you could never measure a countries emotional state as, like the winds, people are always changing. He could barely bring himself to move because of the past; or perhaps, it was the present that had his feet held to the floor.

Though he didn't show it, he truly had and still does love Norway. He bit his bottom lip, attempting to recall the taste of those sweet plump lips. He knew the names of what he tasted like but he could not recall the actual sensation; kissing him was amazing, it seemed like his lips were melting against the Danes. It was a mixture of honey, the rain, and something else.

Søren would lock lips with the boy many times just trying to figure out a name for that taste. No matter how hard or gentle or often he'd rub his lips against the other's, he couldn't decide. Finally he'd given up, knowing he'd never, and never would, taste something else like it. The flavour was just... It was the essence of his lover and nothing else could compare. To give that taste a name would've been blasphemy.

He swung his keys in his edgy hands, his eyes blanking out as he took in a breath. He let the air fill his lungs fully before he let the breath out. He walked towards the counter, approaching the worker there. The guy behind the counter had his hands full of boxes and didn't notice the Dane, or he was just being extremely rude.

The man, boxes in arm, exited the small space in which he seemed confined. He started heading around the corner of an aisle, towards the back of the store he guessed. He felt too lazy and important to have to seek the pens out himself and so he followed the employee.

"Excuse me," the voice was soft; one that was trapped between boy and manhood. It was a soothing voice but the man tried ignoring it," Sir, this is employees only." the man's face contorted in anger for being treated like an ordinary customer. Though the boy couldn'tve known, he was not in the mood for patience.

"Don't speak to me that way!" CRASH! The boxes that were in the boy's hand fell; a deafening sound of broken glass rung throughout the room. The contents of the boxes, the broken shards, spilled forth and spread out. The worker bent down frantically; cursing in Norwegian when his arms got the shards imbedded in the skin.

I looked down and immediately recognized the hair. "S..Svein..." he was barely able to croak the name from his throat. The word was full of pain and longing as it came out. He bent on one knee and slowly brought his hands to the man's cheeks. He forced the worker's gaze upwards, reassuring him that it was, in fact, his childhood friend.

The two stayed locked in gaze; neither, though they wanted to, could pull away. Blue danced upon blue and the only thing that came between it was the crashing down of blonde eyelashes as each blinked.

The words, all those carefully planned words, shut themselves inside Søren's mouth. It was one thing to dream of him and speak to him, but face to face? He was awestruck, dumbfounded, and he could barely even remember to breath.

There he was, the boy who had run his life long after he left, right in front of him.


	2. A Real chapter I sware!

I know this is short but I've had this finished for weeks; I wrote myself into a corner past this point. So.. in an effort to let you know I'm still alive, I posted what I've got. Also, I have plans to foreign exchange and after that move to Finland... and..I have the oppurtunity to graduate THIS year so..you won't see me /as/ often because I am like "Winland is srs bsnss." (xD I just thought that Finland should no longer be 'Fin'land. Finland is WINland XD!) So yup. By submitting this, I am officially the first person on here to, I believe, make a multi-chapter DeNor fic. Anyways, this baby is pretty much all planned out. So, we'll see how it goes. This is also un-BETA-ed. It's full of much suck. OTL

More coming your way soon! (Hopefully...and hopefully with better content. Anyways, I'm off to start the next chapter. I also /tried/ not to ramble too much but.. there isn't much talking going on as of yet so cut me some slack.)

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It was an indignant cry that broke their staring; the Norwegian had pressed his hand down, he assumed it was because he wasn t paying attention, too busy looking at his friend, into the puddle of glass. He could see the blood already sodden from the wounds; finding itself a way out, even with the glass lodged into the skin.

H-here let me... He reached his hand out to touch his old friend, his own hands tremulous as they were fearing touching him. NO! Don t touch me! He screeched and wrenched his body away; causing him to plummet backwards and push some of the shards further into his skin. Instead of shrieking, he just let out a low moan perhaps too drained to properly scream.

"Please let me help you, your fingers are covered with splinters; you ll hurt yourself trying to get them out. He waved one of his hands in front of the other man, beckoning him to come closer. The other man, evading eye contact, pulled his body towards the man.

Søren sliding one of his knees upwards, pulling himself off the ground, went to get behind the boy. He bent down, his hands pressing themselves to Svein s sides and traveling upward. His fingers hooked underneath the man s pits. He slowly, and affectionately, began to pull the boy to his feet. S ren felt his breath well inside his mouth; too afraid of breathing wrong, no... Doing anything wrong, what with the way the boy greeted him.

It was obvious that Svein was less than pleased to see him; though he didn t blame his friend. The way they broke up was, well, it wasn t a cruel break up but there was so much that the two hadn t said; or at least, Søren hadn t said. There were no apologies exchanged, no words, in fact, were even spoken.

Søren had woken up one day to a letter on his desk, written in Danish (To mock him perhaps?), which told him that he desired his freedom. Svein said a lot of things in the paper, but Søren was much too fuming to pay attention. When he had stomped out of the room to hunt for the boy, he found that he was nowhere in sight.

He enveloped an arm around the other s shoulder and slid his other arm under the boy s knees and pulled him upwards. His ears caught a slight catch in the other s breath, wary that the other man wasn t expecting such a mild gesture. He was certain, by the way the body leaned into him, that the boy would ve draped an arm across his shoulder to keep him from falling.

The Dane looked downwards, feeling pity for his old lover; his hands and arms danced around as they searched for a place to comfortably lay, though the glass that was embedded in him made that unattainable. Where s the nearest bathroom? A tiny, shaking, and blood encrusted finger pointed towards the back; the older male could see the door to the facility.

With watchful movements, he moved Svein and himself into the room. He was glad that it was a private bathroom, though he noted there wasn t much legroom. He placed the boy, hovering over the counter as he did so, with his back against the mirror; his movements were small as he removed his arms.

Hold still, ok? The Dane reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of tweezers (What? He was a working man, and you never knew when such objects came in handy). His eyes danced across the pale expanses of skin, looking for a place that was safe to put his fingers around.

It was like a game of twister, his fingers spreading out as the moved to avoid the mess that was on Svein s arms. Finally, after quite a bit of moving about, he had a good grip on the boy. Søren, in a fluid movement, pulled the, now, scarlet arm forward.

It took intense concentration to extract each piece, and a part of him died inside each time he heard a yelp or groan. The whole process must have taken an hour, and Svein admired his patience at having to find the pieces and, with a steady hand, grab at them and pluck them out of his limb.

Soon, Svein could no longer feel the sting, instead, he concentrated on the man s hands; they had grown so large and strong since they had seen each other (Not that the man ever had petite hands to begin with... As the boy could feel his lips get parched, he swiped his tongue against them to bring them moisture only to find that he couldn t keep them wet.

The warmth that radiated from the other s finger tips was, well, he d never admit it out loud, quite sensuous and oh sooo alluring.

The Norwegian could remember a time when those hands had he mentally slapped himself, making a reminder to himself that this man had been anything but kind. Deep down, Svein knew that this gentleness was all an act.

These hands weren't capable of an amorous touch; not a sincere one anyway. He could remember how many times those hands had forced themselves to the most intimate places on his body. A deep frown returned to his face, angered at his body for enjoying the touches.

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Most FAIL! chapter in the history of all fails. For serious, feel free to-..no, in fact. *hands you pitchforks and torches* there. Proceed to FLAME!

: D;; Näkemiin.....


	3. Twist and Pull

So like, it's months late. I'm sorry. Life happens. This chapter sucks but.. *shrugs*

Oh, warning, fail!svenska and fail!suomen.. sorry ^^;;

This is unBETAed

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It was days after the fact; an empty house filled with silence and the sweet aroma of coffee waving through the air. The soft tang of the caffeine was, of course, a normal smell in the Norwegians house (As coffee was the standard drink). Norway had a plush black comforter wrapped around himself from behind, his fingers tightly wound around his coffee mug's handle. He raised the mug a bit, pouring some of the steaming liquid into his mouth; the steam drifted upwards and spread across the lens of his reading glasses.

He just could not believe it. Or rather, he could, and that was why he was most upset. His arms were still sore and so he winced as he pulled the blanket tighter to himself. Denmark had not had to even trick him; Norway had known the other would have his way with him, whether he truly was willing or not. It was the fact that Norway had barely put up a fight, instead, he could vaguely remember pleading, that upset him the most. He hated when his will was broken; but Denmark always ended up shattering his carefully composed face.

Norway had promptly kicked the other out of his house the next day. He could barely stand to look at the others face. He knew he would take his rage too far if he did not remove the man from his sight. Oddly enough, Denmark looked so crestfallen when Norway had pointed at the door sternly; yet he obeyed. That was the weirdest part. Norway didn't have to ask the other twice. However, it was obvious that the other didn't want to leave.

Norway sighed and took another sip, his face contorting as he realized it was cold; was he /that/ lost in thought? With a loud sigh he placed the mug upon his table and the clank of glass against wood rung through the room. He didn't know what to do about the whole thing.

Part of him was still so very much in love with the other; there was hardly a day that passed that he didn't think about the man. ------/

His eyes were blank as he looked around his room; it was so empty to him. All the various objects and trinkets seemed to be dead as they laid there. The room had no warmth despite the temperatures outside. He dully reached for his phone, ignoring the tingles he was met with as fabric rubbed his cuts. His fingers danced across the number pad as he dialed his work.

"Hello, this is Svein Engebretsen, an employee at your store, I need to call in sick for today as I have a high fever." internally he cursed his ex, the real reason was that he could barely move from the pain in his ass. What could he say though? 'Oh ya, I had a run-in with my ex a few nights ago and he pounded me into the bed'. That would go over well. Pfft. He shut his phone and tossed it to the ground; shifting to lay down on the couch.

Svein threw his arm over his eyes and closed them. His life had been so good until now. he had finally escaped his old life; and just to have it cone back.

He sighed as his phone began to vibrate; he had set an alarm whenever he needed a reminder, and today he had a doctor's appointment. Svein was sure that the other had torn some tissue because he had been getting randomly sick since that night. Maybe he even got an STD; he was now constantly tired and grouchy and tender. Oh so tender!

His breasts were the most sore above all; so sensitive to the touch, even having the fabric of his shirt touch them felt strange. Perhaps he had just been badly bruised?

Svein flipped his phone open both to stop the thing from buzzing and see the time; he had about twenty minutes to get ready. He took his blanket off and carefully folded it, laying it on the top of the couch. He dreaded having to shower when he did because he wasn't fully healed. It was difficult for him to wash himself both because of having to reach and getting soap in the wounds. Plus, pressure also hurt as the surrounding skin was still puffy, pink, and very alert to even the lightest touch.

He got ready in somewhat of a haste; he didn't want to keep his ride waiting, as his best friend wasn't all that patient at times. He wore a simple blue and black plaid short-sleeved shirt with plain black shorts that went just above his knees. His hair was the typical loose-except-pinned-up-on-one-side fashion. It only took him long to get ready because of the delay his injuries put on him. It was such a long ans grueling task to put his clothes on; he nearly needed to call his friend for help, but felt much too much pride to admit to not being able to dress himself.

He grabbed his keys and shoved them into his front pockets, quite annoyed at how the oddly shaped object poked at his leg; the concentration on the pestering wore off quickly enough though. With one final sigh, and the honk of a car horn, he left his house and made his way towards his friend's car.

"Moi. " Tino, his best friend pulled the other in for a kiss on the cheek as he climbed into the seat of the car; he wasn't French or anything, or even this friendly to everyone, he just had a lot of affection for his friend. "Är du okej?" Tino clutched the steering wheel in his hands and began to press on the gas with his foot once he saw Svein buckle his seat belt.

"Varför du är prata med jag på svenska? Finksa är bättre! Oletteko suomalainen tai ei?" Svein chuckled and raised an eyebrow. His Finnish friend hardly ever spoke Swedish, as he had hard feelings on the matter of the 'pakkoruotsi'. Though, looking closer at his friend he could see the worry and stress seated in his eyes and movements. Tino didn't answer, it wasn't a mean silence just.. His friend probably felt it unnecessary to waste words answering.

"Yeah," Svein's voice was smooth and soft, rolling out of his mouth like warmed butter against toasted bread. "I'm fine." he cupped his cheek into his hand, leaned his elbow on the window and watched the street as all the cars, buildings, and people were swept away behind them through the glass.

"He came back." It was something he said only after going through countless minutes of debate inside his head. He decided though that his friend would find out sooner or later so it was better to reveal it himself. He would have rather not thought about it at all. However, the man was the whole reason he needed the doctors visit in the first place. He saw his friend's hands tighten their hold on the wheel; Tino knew of what the Dane had done. Tino despised him with his entire being.

"Is that the reason we're going? Did he hurt you again?! I swear, if he did.." he spoke with animosity, his rage seeping into every syllable. Svein made the mistake of glancing at the man; his teeth barred and eyes squinted in barely-contained rage.

He flinched. "He didn't hurt me.." well, sort of. But it was somewhat true. "So, then, what?" anger was still present but, there were also subtle hints of curiosity and dumbfoundedness in his words.

Svein sighed, and found himself relieved when the act made the other stop the questions. In his head, all he could think was that he didn't know. He didn't know what happened exactly; it was all blurred behind a door sealed shut from the alcohol and his minds will to keep out the memories. He hoped that the day would bring answers; he was aflame with so many unanswered inquiries. He felt like his head might combust and minute.

Svein leaned back into his seat and let his eyelids hang closed. No more verbal exchanges were made for the rest of the car ride. The only noise was the sound of voices speaking quickly in Finnish and the occasional song being played; he couldn't speak Finnish perfectly so he only understood parts of it. He scoffed with frustration and, tuning the radio out, watched the street once more.

He only noticed that the car stopped when the backdrop stopped moving. He listened to Tino's belt click out of the buckle and followed suit. The office building was small enough, he eyed from the car, and it had a small sign above the door signifying the places' purpose. "You'll be ok." wait, what? He thought. He hadn't realized he was shaking until his friend put a hand on his knee. Svein met the others gaze for a second, but lost courage and quickly scrambled from the vehicle. Not now, he thought and shook the thoughts away as soon as they came.

He didn't wait for the Finn before entering; it was, as predicted from the outside, a cozy, and compact office. There were a few wooden chairs set up in front of the front desk. He flinched a bit as he heard the door open, but he turned to look at his friend to try and silently communicate an apology.

"Svein Engebretsen 11:40." he informed the woman behind the computer and her nimble fingers began to punch at the keys; each push of thr keys made a clacking sound from the length of her nails. The two friends headed over towards the chairs and sat down as they waited to be called back.

It was a scrawny but tall man that called him back; he was pasty white and had a muddy blonde hair. His face had wrinkles at the corners of his eye; laugh lines, Svein thought, how very.. Chipper. How very.. Danish. The two followed like baby chicks to their mother duck, nearly crashing into one another as the man stopped in front of the door.

He motioned for them to step in, his clipboard in his hand that held the door open. They crouched into the room almost cautiously. The air in the room was cold and bit at Svein's mind as he was seated onto that table with the plushy seat.

"Mr. Engebretsen, so, what brings you here?"

* * *

He took the edge of shirt in his hands and gripped the ridged edges of the twist off cap of his beer bottle. It released itself from the bottle with an audible pop; some smoke from the beverage spilling forth from the bottle. He gave a breathy sigh, flicking the cap onto the floor, and threw his head back and began to chug the liquid. Svein was to the point that it didn't even burn anymore.

He wanted it to all go away.


	4. If You So Desire

Dear readers,

After months you are no doubt sick of /another/ author's note but I have to give it. So here's the deal, I depart for Finland in the middle of August. I will be there until the middle of January, maybe longer if I can extend my stay. Anything could happen. The point is that I just will not have the time to write. Rather, I don't want to have the time to write this. This is my one chance at being a Finnish teenager; I'm leaving myself behind on this one.

Well, my original plot is just too overwhelming for me. It takes a skilled writer with patience, and precision; I have high anxiety and can't sit still. So, there's a need for change in plot. I know this is weird but if anyone wants to request something, please leave a review or pm me, or both. I want to discuss with you guys what you want to see. If I can't get a plot to change it to, well, I just can't keep writing. I honestly don't have the will-power. I'm sorry, I'm a flake.

I must apologize, after 5,043 hits, 30 reviews, 27 favs, and 40 alerts.. I fail you guys. I do not deserve such attention! This story is.. pretty plain. Anyways, I thank everyone for their support thus far. Should I stop writing, I might give it to someone else to finish if they so desire, or whatever. You guys make me happy and give me some confidence! Now go, tell me all that you think about the story, and what you want to see happen!

Lots of love,

Shironess -AKA- Crispy For A Change


	5. That was Unexpected

Hello everybody! This is Crispy For A Change! I'm not the same author you knew though. You see, I've done a lot of growing-up and discovering myself in these past few months. I've come to learn my strengths and weaknesses. I know what I want to do with my life. I know who I want to grow to be. I know that I am not a horrible writer. I will no longer apologize for 'bad writing'. I am also going to pursue a degree in creative writing come this fall. I also want to be an actress : )!

This chapter is short because I couldn't make it long. There is a shift in mood towards the end. It seems out of place, but its actually how I'd react. Its those annoying times when you're trying to be sad and solemn around an idiotic ball of optomism. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this and that my new attitude hasn't shifted the story too drastically. I want it to be an emotional ride, like life. Moods are all over the place.

Thanks for sticking with me!

-

Mathias drew his fist forward swiftly to deliver a knock to the door. The sound was harsh and vibrated the length of the wood. He paused and waited a few seconds before repeating the action. Still nothing. He was beginning to get impatient. "Svein!" He called just as sharp and volumous as his knocks had been. "I still remember where you keep the spare!" When he was greeted in turn with silence he began to turn around but called one more warning," Don't make me use it!"

He waited, counting to 60 in his head, before completely turning around and heading towards the flagpole which bore the symbol of pride but few times a year. He bent down and poked his pointer finger into the dirt; scooping out the dirt and making a drilling motion with his finger, twisting it further until he felt the cold metal of the ring. He curled his finger and pulled them out, the keys clanking together as he unearthed them.

Quickly, Mathias made his way back to the door and shoved the largest key into the hole. With a turn of the hand, he used his weight to open the door. "Nooooorgeee!" He aimed his call towards the stairs, figuring the Norwegian was up there.

"Hng." a weak groan drew his attention to the living room. Denmark shut the door without sparing it a glance. He catiously made his way to the room; noticing for the first time the soft voices and music coming from the television.

His mind stopped all thoughts when he saw the boy-in-question seated on the plush chair, slim fingers wrapped around the equally slim neck of a bottle. From the other empty, discarded bottles lying nestled against the side of the chair, it was obvious what the other had been up to.

"Svein." His tone held a curious and warning tone. He approached the chair slowly, as if afraid that sudden movements would cause the other to startle, and laid a large hand on a bony shoulder. "You've never been one to drink so much. Why?" He kneeled to the side of Svein.

"Mph." Svein merely cast a glance from the corner of his eye and lifted the rim to his lips and took an exxagerrated and long gulp. He didn't even bother to clean up the little bit that leaked from his bottom lip; to which Mathias swipped away with his thumb.

A few more minutes in silence and Mathias knew the answers would come soon enough. " 's all yer fa'lt." His face scrunched into a scowl but his gaze remained forward.

"Why d' we dooo 'is? We c'nt m'ke up our minds. We fight 'n make up 'n fight 'gain." the tip of his tongue folded itself across the bottom of his upper teeth. His eyes slid towards Mathias, but nothing else moved. When the other didn't reply he threw his fist down on the armrest of the chair.

"Make up yer mind!" he heaved forward, a sob tearing from his throat. "You c'nt jus' say you love me 'n leave. Bu' ye alrea'y 'id," he threaded his fingers through his hair and perched his shoulders forward," ye alrea'y 'id."

The protest was minimal as arms were wrapped around him.

"I'm so sorry Nor." Mathias buried his face on Svein's shoulder.

"Jus' leave. I don' wan' you 'ere! I don't wan' you 'ere! I DON' WAN' YOU TUH BE 'ERE!" He tried squirming out of the grip.

"Nor, Nor, Nor," he uttered and gave squeezed his grip. "Please don't be this way. Let's just talk-"

"NO! NO! I said le' me go! I said le' me go! Why do ya f'rce yerself on meh?"

Mathias let go immediately.

From the courner of the room, with his hands held in front of himself, he began to inhale and exhale to increments of 10. Not that he needed it, no, he did it in hopes that when /he/ finished counting the other boy will have calmed down. The breathing came natural.

"Ok. I'm sorry for that Nor. I'll just stay over here. " He motioned to the plush chair behind him as he lowered himself. "Please. Talk to me."

Svein grunted. A few seconds of silence afterwards and he began. He told the other with what he hoped was non-chalance. Even though he was shaking. And he kept swallowing. Of course, the falling face of Mathias didn't help either. Especially when he shouted,

"You're... What?" He looked warily at Svein's throat.

"Pregnant! 'the hell di' you th'nk I said?"

Mathias looked away, not really willing to answer that.

Pregnant? Phew. Was that all? Here he thought Svein had some sort of di-

"PREGNANT? As.. As in. Y'know. Uh. Babies? And tummies. And. And.."

"YES! Now you get it." he brought his fingers to his temples and began to massage them. The veins in his head felt like they were going to rupture. "I.. Have," he swallowed as the words began to catch up with his thoughts," a baby growing inside me."

Mathias quickly shifted his gaze towards the man's stomach. His jaw was slightly open and eyebrows drawn together. "Is it..?" he slowly raised his eyes and met Svein's. His gestured loosely towards his chest. A nod was the answer.

There was a long pause for thought.

"I want to be he-"  
"NO! I don't want you anywhere near my child!"  
"He's mine too!"  
"You gave up that right when you coaxed me into having sex with you again!"

Mathias repeated Svein's earlier action of rubbing his temples.

"Bu-"  
"No."

Pause.

"But-"  
"NO!"

"Ple-"  
"Fuck you!"

Mathias twiddled his thumbs and shut his mouth. Svein was snarling at him.

A few seconds passed.

"You-"  
"OH MY GOSH!"  
"Ok but-"  
"FINE!"  
"But I mean he or she really needs two-"  
"I SAID FINE!"

They both paused.

"Oh." Mathias affirmed.

"Dumbass!" Svein doubled forward in laughter. He couldn't contain a smile at the sight and eventually joined him in his laughter. Soon the room was filled with the merry sounds of two people enjoying themselves. The solemnity forgotten in favor of the humour of the situation.

"Sometimes I wonder wh-"  
"Sometimes I wonder why you, too. Dumbass."

As the laughs faded to chuckles, then to the occassion giggle, the two collected themselves back on their respective seating. The pain burning in Svein's eyes had settled to a dull ache and his face glowed softly. Mathias couldn't keep himself from staring.

"So? When should I move in?" he hesitated.

The other's lips drew sideways and he drummed his fingers on the armrest. He scrutinized the Dane as if inspecting him for any disease that would push back the move-in date.

"If I say in a week, you're just going to show up tomorrow?"

The Dane avoided eye contact and made a shy nod.

"Fine. You can't fire me, I quit. Tomorrow."

All Svein could wonder was what the hell he'd just gotten himself into when Mathias left. He cleaned the bottles off the floor, sorting them into their bin. If he really was pregnant than he would need to stop drinking alcohol. And coffee. He would need pre-natal vitamins. Maybe exercise too.

But those were thoughts for later, he said in his head as he climbed into bed, turned the lights off, and closed his eyes to sleep off his forming hangover.


End file.
